The sound is too loud. Upbeat music plays and people jerk around in a drunken haze to the melody. My gulp is audible as I step all the way into the bar. Since the both of us had to drop our things off at home, I'm meeting Amy here. Besides that, I'm still preparing my mind for a night on the town. Going home and changing hasn't given me much time to get in the right mindset.
Beer and aftershave irritate my nose, causing me to sneeze three times in a row. It's stale and bad in this space, overwhelming my senses. Wiping my nose, I push through the haze of smoke, cheap liquor, and cheap cologne. I breathe through my mouth as I squeeze past two patrons who are choosing to have their talk in the middle of the walkway. Breaking through them, I find Amy at the bar, a pink straw pressed between her lips as she sucks down what looks like Polar Blast Hawaiian Punch.
She spins on her stool to face me, or rather the crowd. That's when our eyes connect and she waves, her features lighting up in excitement. From the looks of it, she doesn't care that she looks kind of odd or like she's downed ten of those drinks.
"Sutton!" Amy calls, her smile wide and happy. It allows me to take notice of her signature red lipstick, blemish-free face, and black-coated eyelids.
Amy has really dressed for the occasion. Her breasts almost spill out of the silver sequined top she wears that ends an inch above her belly button. A black leather jacket covers her arms. I'm happy to see that she at least chose to wear jeans for tonight. It's pretty cold out and I could see my breath come out in puffs while walking into the building.
"I'm so glad you came. I almost thought you wouldn't," Amy states once I take my seat on the stool next to her. I'm not late, she's just here very early. "I'm so ready to let loose and have fun. Chandler has been up my ass all fucking week."
I blink as her words loop around my head multiple times. The unknown sailor's mouth catches me by surprise. Even with all of our lunch dates, I've never heard such vulgar language leave Amy's mouth. It's hard to imagine such a delicate woman saying such things. Then again, I wouldn't have labeled the sweet face of my Ariel as a stripper. But I've seen the seductive smile on her lips as she stares at a room full of raunchy men. Judging a book by its cover isn't always right.
"Chandler?" I choose to take the route of work. That type of talk comes easy to me. Personal life, not so much. "Mister Novak?"
Amy reaches forward for her drink and downs the rest of it, ignoring the pink straw. She nods as she gulps the sweet liquid down. "Yeah, I like to call him by his name outside of work. Makes me feel like I'm really sticking it to the man, you know? He's just been coming down on me about phone etiquette or whatever."
"I thought he seemed happier, calmer?" I note, furrowing my eyebrows. And I know it has to do with his fiance. "Maybe you just caught him on a bad day?"
Amy shakes her head. Her hand flies up as she motions for the bartender and spouts off her order for a margarita. I now know that's what she's been sipping on. "I think he's just an ass. Anyway, enough work talk. It's ruining my buzz." She looks over at me, her eyes taking in my whole figure. "You look really good, Sutton. Like... really good."
Blushing, I look down at my body. In my opinion, I don't think I'm wearing anything special. All I have on is a pair of khaki pants that are very loose, a white button-down shirt, and the shoes I wear for work. I look normal, maybe even dressed down because these pants are from the thrift store and have an off brown stain on the left leg. The shirt is a hand-me-down from Dustin and no matter how much I iron it, it always wrinkles in an annoying way. The brown loafers on my feet are the only nice things about my outfit, and those were only five bucks from Walmart.
"Thank you. You look great too. I really like your jacket."
"This old thing?" Amy grins, shrugging. "It's been sitting in my closet for ages. Nothing special. Okay, no more outfit talk, work talk, boring talk! We're here to have fun and I'm so ready."
Her words seem in tune with the bartender as he returns with another blue drink. Amy cheers as she lifts her beverage up to her mouth. I expect her to take a sip, but to my surprise, she gulps it down in a matter of seconds. With wide eyes, I watch as she sets the glass down and slams her hand on the bar counter.
"Woo!" Amy cheers again as she shakes her head. "Let's dance, okay, Sutton? I really wanna dance."
I shake my head as my body tenses. "I think I'll sit this one out. But you go and I'll cheer you on, okay?"
Amy shrugs and hops off the stool. She stumbles for a moment before righting herself. "Suit yourself, Sutton. I'll be getting my groove on. Don't be surprised if a crowd forms."
With those last words, Amy bounces to the makeshift dance floor that looks like it can only hold ten people. There is already a partner grasped in her clutches. And as I watch her twirl around with the stranger, I can't help but think of my special dance with my Ariel.
***
Amy is drunk. No doubt about it. Throughout the night, which is about three hours, she became sloppy and then sloppier. Faded red lipstick is smeared on her cheek. Her mascara is also rubbed away, the black product smudging on the sides of her eyes. Half of the sentences she starts, she doesn't finish. She trails off as her mind becomes sidetracked by something else.
Most of all, Amy is very flirty. While I've never experienced drunken escapades, I at least have some knowledge. I know things like alcohol or drugs can change a person's mental capacity for however long they are under the influence. It isn't called liquid courage for nothing. And though Amy isn't under the influence of drugs, she's very drunk.
"Jesus, Sutton." Amy leans over me, causing me to grip her waist uncomfortably. I feel wrong touching her while she's incapacitated. "I'm so happy you're not gay, you know? Like... you're really cute."
At her words, a rosy blush rises to my cheeks. I curse myself at not being able to help my reaction. It never matters who gives me compliments: guys, girls, parents. Everything is always the same: blushing, stuttering, awkwardness. I mean, it's not like I get many compliments from people.
"Maybe I should take you home, Amy?" I wonder aloud. My voice shakes and I stutter to match how unsure I am.
"No!" Amy denies, her voice coming out high pitched and whiny. "I'm having such a good time."
Sighing, I shake my head and press a hand to her shoulder. "Amy, you're super drunk and the bar will be closing soon. I need to get you home, okay?"
This isn't what I signed up for. I would never leave her while she's vulnerable, but I was hoping this outing would be enjoyable. As someone who doesn't drink, I never knew taking care of others was so time consuming. Especially drunk others. Either way, I can't see myself going out again. Not if there's alcohol involved.
Turning, she gives me a smile. Her eyes are half-closed and she looks as if she could pass out at any moment now. Lifting her hand, she runs it across my face in a careless stroke, causing me to move away.
"I'll go home... as long as it's with you, Sutty."
That name causes my stomach to clench. Pushing that feeling away, I stand and wrap my arm around Amy's waist to help her out. She's been stumbling around for hours and twice she's almost fallen down. Pulling her from the stool, I lead us to the exit with cautious steps. Luckily, we don't get jostled around much since most people left an hour or so ago. There's just a few stragglers and us.
"Oh my gosh, it's fucking cold out here." Amy squeals and burrows herself into me. It's an awkward position and feeling, but I ignore that for now.
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I hold my hand out to hail a cab. Few of them are out and about. It's late, and this area seems pretty sparse. The few yellow cars that have passed are already full of passengers. The more I hold my hand out, the more annoyed and frustrated I feel.
"Let's just go back inside, Sutton. Fuck the cab and fuck going home," Amy murmurs into my shoulder. Glancing down at her, her eyes are closed and her mouth moves with unintelligible mutters that I can hardly hear.
"No, it's late and they're closing," I tell her, though I'm not sure she's actually listening.
I drop my arm to let it rest for a moment, then I thrust it out again. Fortunately, a car stops in front of us. Blowing out a breath of relief, I pull the back door open and gently nudge Amy inside. Her head falls to the window and her arms lay limp at her side. She's most definitely asleep. After she's settled, I climb in and list off my address to the driver. The man says nothing, just inputs my street into his GPS and starts driving.
Closing my own eyes, I lean my head against the window. The coldness of the glass contrasts with the warmth in the cab. The two different temperatures are pleasant for the moment.
Once the car stops, I open my eyes to see us outside my apartment building. Amy is still passed out next to me and the driver is watching me, waiting for me to get out. Grabbing the door handle, I push it open and exit. Amy falls to the side where I was sitting. I bite my bottom lip and reach in to grab her. Disturbed moans and groans leave her as I pull her from the car. When I shut the door, the driver races off.
That wouldn't be so bad if Amy wasn't now vomiting all over the sidewalk.